


Closed

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma knows a story when she sees one but Mr Gold isn't willing to tell her the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed

**Author's Note:**

> Just a missing scene immediately after the end of Skin Deep. Anyone think Emma's superpower might come in handy some time soon? ;)

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Mr Gold opened his eyes. He was sitting against the wall of the cell, his head tilted back, but he looked at their Sheriff, Miss Swan. She was standing on the opposite side of the bars, in the spot the Mayor - the Queen - had stood only moments earlier. 

She flashed him her mother's smile and held out an ice cream cone. "I didn't know what you'd like," she said, "but Henry tells me that their chocolate fudge is the best he's ever had."

He straightened up, watching her. "And you'll want another deal, like the pastrami?"

She shook her head. "This is just for good behaviour," she said. "You didn't piss off her bitchiness, so I got the full half hour."

One side of his mouth turned up. He could understand how important those half hours could be. Every moment could be precious, if the threat of loss was there. "Very well," he said, extending his hand. She handed the cone through the bars, then perched on the arm of the couch. "Thank you, Sheriff."

"You'll have to tell me how it is," she said. "I went for the apple pie flavour."

He scraped a tiny scoop with the plastic spoon and tasted it. "I've had worse," he said, slanting a look at her. "But never in prison. I imagine this is considered a luxury."

"Like you wouldn't believe," she agreed. She swung one of the wooden chairs around and flopped down into it, all long limbs and blonde curls. "But you've got no one but yourself to blame for this, and you know it."

He made a noncommittal sound, picking at the ice cream.

"You going to tell me who 'she' was?"

"Did you know there's chocolate chips in this?" he said, offering a flick of a smile at her. "Quite the treat."

"Gold."

"Miss Swan," he murmured, jabbing at the ice cream, "I told you it was nothing to do with you."

She propped one booted foot on the horizontal bar of the cell bars. "And yet, here you are," she said. "Abduction, assault, could have been murder."

"Oh, I wouldn't have killed him," Gold murmured darkly. "Not right away."

"You really aren't helping your case, y'know." She lifted her other foot, crossing her legs lazily at the knee. "What's so important to you that you'd risk everything you have here to kill one person who owed you?"

Gold smiled at her, barely a twitch of the corners of his mouth. "Maybe I don't like it when people owe me."

She continued to gaze at him, her eyes clear and sharp. She was a bright girl, this one. Too honourable, too decent, but underneath, she was smart and cunning, and he always had to be on his guard. Snow always had been smart, had to be to survive the Queen, and her daughter was just as tough.

"So he didn't even offer a pastrami, huh?"

He snorted quietly, eating a little more of the ice cream.

She swung her feet down, leaning forward, arms across her knees. "C'mon, Gold," she said. "Give me something to work with. What does the Mayor have to do with anything? What did that guy do? Who is 'she'? You're pretty much stuck with me for now, and trust me when I say I can ask questions all night."

There was a thick dribble of ice cream dripping down the side of the cone. He caught it on his finger. "Miss Swann," he finally said quietly. "We all have questions we don't want to answer." He looked at her, direct. "You're asking me some of those questions. Let us say French and I had... a conflict of interest."

"The interest being 'she'," Emma murmured.

He watched her. "Perhaps."

"Maybe I can help her?"

"No one..." He cut himself off sharply, cursing under his breath. He forced a brisk smile. "She's no one, Miss Swann. No one important. Nothing you should worry about."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she sat back in the chair, staring at him. "Huh." 

He turned away from her, ignoring the scrutiny, even though she could still feel her eyes on him. 

"I don't get you, Gold," she finally said. "Anyone else on an attempted murder rap would be singing like a bird to try and get off. You just sit there, eating an ice cream, and lying to my face about why you did it."

He slowly turned to look at her again. "I'm not a nice man, Miss Swann, and everyone knows it. I've admitted I wanted to kill the man. Most police officers would be happy with that. Job done and what have you. And yet, here you are, looking for some heartfelt, deep reason for it." His lips turned up. "Ask anyone in town, and I'm sure they would give you any number of reasons why I would do such a thing. Probably with very colourful language too."

"Well, yeah," she agreed. "I'm not disputing the fact you're a bullying asshole." He almost laughed at that, brief and quiet. "What I want to know is why the hell the Mayor looked so smug after coming in here to give you a teacup."

Gold stared at her, his expression as close to blank as he could make it. She couldn't have seen the cup, and he had hidden it out of sight, under his coat. "You know Regina and I don't get along."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't even need to check the security footage to know that," she said. 

"You checked the footage?" he asked, his heart thundering.

"Had to make sure she wasn't abusing the prisoners," Emma retorted. "My jail, my rules, remember."

Gold gritted his teeth. "Very considerate."

"So, you, the Mayor, a teacup, possibly stolen, a mystery unnamed woman and one flower-vendor in hospital. Want to fill in any blanks?"

"Not especially," he replied, finishing the last of the cone. "If you don't mind, it's been a busy night. I think I need some rest."

"You do that," she said, getting up. She stood by the bars, looking down at him. "But if you ever get off your high horse enough to ask for help for her, I _would_ help you, you know." She offered him that Snow-smile again. "Even if you are a violent psycho vigilante from time to time."

He looked up at her. She was a good person, he knew. She would do everything if she could help.

"Thank you, Miss Swan," he murmured, turning away. "But I don't need any help. Nor does she."

Not anymore.


End file.
